Serving His General
by Lorelei Jane
Summary: Bao Dur knows what his General needs. Set before A Match for the Mandalore might explain a few comments. Shortish oneshot stand alone story. Please read and review, if so inclined!
1. Chapter 1

They were docked at Nar Shadaa, next stop, Dantooine. All the lost Jedi masters had been found, and agreed to meet at the ruins of the old Jedi enclave. The crew was tense, wild to go and hopefully complete their mission. Saving the galaxy and the Republic – it sounded so melodramatic, yet it was exactly what they were charged to do. The General had lead them well, and most of them were now Jedi, albeit unconventionally and without the benefit of a Council. Still, Bao Dur knew they – and she - had chosen the right path. The rest was simply semantics. The General would find a way to rebuild the Council and legitimize her recruits.

They had some time to gather their strength and plan their strategies, such as they could. Bao Dur himself, with the help of T3 and his probe, had upgraded all weapons, armor, prepared kolto packs, and repaired the Ebon Hawk so that it was a smooth running, deadly machine. All was ready, but timing was essential. They had a standard week before they must fly. And what then? Become heroes? Die? Either option seemed acceptable to him, as long as they accomplished their goal.

At Bao Dur's quiet suggestion, The General (he must remember to think of her as Ladria, he reminded himself…especially for what he intended to do) had told the crew to go relax, take care of whatever unfinished business they might have. They needed to remember absolutely why they must go, and do what they must do. When you are facing death, you need to have something to hold on to, to remember what you are fighting for. And so she ordered everyone to go, play some Pazzak, drink, find solace where they could. Stay away until they had to report back to the Ebon Hawk and ready the ship for takeoff.

They all did…some most reluctant to leave her, like Atton, and himself. Some were eager to go…Disciple all but ran to the station library, Mandalore to search for his own kind, Mira to listen and absorb her new connection to the Force, and learn some more from Visas. Atton expressed a desire hit the cantina and Pazzak tables. He was the hardest to convince to leave, and Bao Dur still had some business to take care of there. Kreia…well, she went to parts unknown. Bao Dur and the rest of the crew did not trust her, but he sensed that her role was to come, and meant no harm to the rest of them until that time. Atton knew something about her, but was not telling. Bao Dur let that be for now.

Ladria remained alone, save the droids, aboard the Ebon Hawk. She shut down the HK unit and Go-To agreed to bother her not at all, even going so far as to shut down voluntarily.

Bao Dur reached out his senses and felt her loneliness, and the love she had for them all. It was heartbreaking, and beautiful. She cared so much, yet had to put them in danger for the sake the galaxy. She accepted this, and he could feel her prayers to protect them. But she trusted them to do their jobs, and herself, the same. That was why they would follow her anywhere.

Ladria. Such a lovely name. When they had met again – was it only a few months ago? – and he had addressed by habit as "General", she had admonished him to use her name, not her former title. His reply had been "As you wish, General," and nothing more had been said. To his mind, "General" _was_ her name, to a certain degree. They had had a conversation on the eve of the battle of Malachor V on the importance of names, at least to his people.

As was her habit, she had gathered her closest confidants and commanders to her quarters, to have a drink and as she put it "unwind". They would discuss last-minute tactics and concerns, assure all was in readiness, wish each other luck and good hunting. That evening, after all the others had left, she had asked him to stay a moment. He still didn't understand why, but looking back, he realized she took some comfort from his presence, something that as the commander she could not admit. The excuse to talk was trivial – even at the time he had known it – and while they were speaking, she had invited him to sit and plugged in some music. They sat in silence for a time, and her eyes were closed. Abruptly, she turned to him.

"Bao Dur, I don't know why I must say this, but there it is. You know my background, my service record, and of course, my name. Ladria Windbreak. I ask you, if we live through tomorrow, that in private, please call me Ladria."

He had looked at her, a bit shocked. The answer popped out of his mouth without thought. "As you wish, General."

She smiled, a little sadly. "Ladria" She corrected.

"Yes, General." He said stiffly.

She looked at him thoughtfully. "Bao Dur, I know very little of your people. If you are an example, I expect they are an exceptional race. I depend on your judgment and character more than you know. I respect your reasons for not using my name, whatever it may be. Is it something you can tell me, or should I drop this now, and we can forget I spoke at all?"

He thought about that for a moment, his face unreadable, but not offended. "General," he said at last, "among my people, names are power, and used with caution. The name you know me by, Bao Dur, is twofold: the closest approximation to my true Name as Galactic Basic can get, and the common form of my true Name among the tribe. An Iridonian only uses their true name in times of ceremony, or if one wishes to hold power over another, which is rare indeed. We are given Names at birth, to be used sparingly, and contractions, if you will, of them for common use. It is a sign of great trust to exchange Names."

"I see," she said quietly. "I didn't wish to offend. Please accept my apologies, and we will speak no more of it."

"I am not offended, General. I accept your offer to use your name with great honor. Even," he said with a smile, "if I decline to use it." There was a twinkle in his eye.

She smiled back. "Well then, I suppose I should allow you to get back to your men. Good Hunting, Major."

"Thank you, General." He saluted smartly. "Major Bao'uhr Dur'hcsk requesting permission to return to quarters, Sir."

She stilled. The magnitude of the gesture seemed to momentarily to stun her. A genuine smile, bright as the sun, broke over her face, and she looked the young woman she was, not the quiet and decisive General he was used to. He knew she was just eighteen years; but her Jedi training had prepared her for the responsibility of her rank far better than most that were twice her age. She saluted back.

"Permission granted. Dismissed."

Smiling at the memory, Bao Dur left the ship, and found Atton where he had expected: the Pazzak den. He was alone, drinking, but his glass was barely touched. The depths of the darkness in himself that he had conquered but not forgotten hung around him like a cloud. Bao Dur took a moment to watch the other man, interested in this rare glimpse of Atton without a smile or a quip or an audience to perform his usual clownish behavior to. He sat himself across from Atton with a friendly smile.

"No takers?" he nodded at Atton's Pazzak deck.

"Not in the mood." Atton took a minute sip of his drink, then looked up. "Is she all right?"

"Yes…and no. She will be, but the burden is…heavy." He smiled again. "I have some business with you. I would have you hear me out."

Atton looked surprised. "What business would that be?"

"The Gen….Ladria," Bao Dur corrected himself. "You asked me once, if a guy like you and a woman like her…well, I wasn't as honest as I could have been. At the time."

"Huh?" Atton sputtered, then regained composure. He eyed Bao Dur in confusion, then mild suspicion. But he didn't speak.

"I didn't know you then…or trust you. So I was noncommittal. But if you want to know my opinion now, I'd say yes. But not now."

Atton appeared to think this over, then nodded. "I'd agree that the timing sucks, yeah."

"She needs you…or will. Not because of your apprenticeship, or your past, or your skills. You. Because of who you are, and who she is. You are her future, Jedi or no. I have never agreed that the Jedi should not love, or marry, or have families. Neither, I think, does she. When she realizes that, and convinces the new Jedi order of her wisdom, she will seek you out. This, I am sure of. But until then, she cannot break her Jedi vow, and will not admit her feelings for you. For you two to be everything you should be, it must start in the Light. Do you understand?"

The weight of this settled on Atton's shoulders, but he did not waver. His handsome face registered regret fleetingly, then relaxed. "I can see it, yeah. But you've picked a hell of a time to speak up." He sipped his drink again.

Bao Dur nodded approvingly, then set his mind to the rest of it. Taking a deep breath, he cautioned, "Please do not speak until you have heard me out. I came to you now, because I trust you, and consider you a brother. Because of that, I need to have truth between us. Not…" he held up a hand as Atton started to speak "that there can't be some secrets, I have many, and you do as well. I am not here to judge, or discuss the past. I am here because The Gen…Ladria needs us."

He paused, searched Atton's face, and nodded again. Atton appeared to have questions, but wisely shut up for now.

"So…" this was harder than he'd thought it would be. He only hoped that Atton would understand, and bless his chosen course. His careful words, so recently thought out before he left the ship, deserted him. He blurted out his plan so fast he felt a little dizzy. "I intend to get her drunk, well maybe not, she doesn't seem to be able to actually get intoxicated, but…well, I intend to try, and then bed her."

His bald words hung in the air between them.

"WHAT?!" Atton yelped. "You son of a…"

"No, no, it's not like that!" Bao Dur hurried to explain. "I love her, yes, but not as you do. I can't. She's…like the sun, and me…a plant without light or rain until she came...back. She's not my master, or my lover, or my wife to me…she's my General, and my friend. And she needs this. But not from you, now. She can't. It would taint your relationship, and you two would never be the same. The galaxy would lose something rare and fine, and I can't allow that. I love both of you, and you deserve to be together, always. In the Light, where no one can gainsay what you are to one another, or how powerful you are together."

"I fail to see how this can be achieved with you in her bed." Atton said coldly. That this sounded like an excuse to him went unsaid. "And she'd be breaking her vow as a Jedi with you, just as much as with me. So would you. So would I, for that matter," he added as an afterthought. He was still having problems getting it around his head that he was Jedi now. After all that he had done, all the Jedi he'd hunted down and murdered, he truly didn't believe himself worthy. But Ladria did, and he'd throw himself into a supernova before he would disappoint her.

"Atton, listen to me. I've seen you two…and it's beautiful. But it can't be right now, you know that. But this minute, she's all alone, sitting in an empty freighter, knowing that everyone she loves might die next week. I have no doubt she'll do everything she has to. She's strong. She can do this without me…in her bed."

He swallowed, and looked pleadingly at Atton. "But she will be so much stronger, if she can connect with someone who loves her, without reservation, without expectation, without…guilt." He eyed Atton with sympathy. "She loves you, I've said it, and it's true. But the guilt would eat at both of you. I could have said nothing, done nothing, and what happens next week…well we'll win, or not, but I'm betting we will."

"But…if she has hope, if she knows without a doubt someone loves her and believes in her…she will fight that much harder, for all of us, because she knows she has something to live for. I can show her that. You could too, better than me in fact, but the consequences of that are unacceptable. You both would lose. I can't let that happen. As for Jedi vows…" He paused, trying to find words that wouldn't sound like he was justifying anything. "I've already made peace with myself. I don't consider this a true betrayal of them, in any case. If she won't because of her own vow, perhaps knowing someone wanted her enough to ask will be enough. If she's willing to, it will be because she can accept it, and live with her decision. She doesn't have the conflict with me of wanting to continue a relationship that is forbidden."

"I got news for you _friend_…I'm here, in a bar, and what you're thinking hardly crossed my mind. I'm not trying to get her drunk and show her a good time." Atton's voice was a low growl. "As you said, she'll do what she must…without either of us having to _sacrifice_ our _honor._" The last was bitter.

"True."

They sat in silence for a moment, one angry, one determined to be heard.

Finally, Atton relaxed, and seemed to release his anger. "Why come to me? Why tell me at all?"

"Because you are my friend. I would not hurt you, or her. If you found out later…you would not trust my motives. I have thought on this for some time, and I could not do it without your…well, blessing."

"Blessing?! You sit there, telling me you want to bed the woman I love, and you're asking me if it's OKAY?!"

"Yes…if you would be blunt about it."

Bao Dur looked at Atton with infinite patience. "Search within yourself. You know what I say is true. She needs a human connection, to center herself and know she is loved. That her sacrifice will bring hope, and that when balance is restored, she has a place, a reason to keep fighting."

"One, you're not human, and two…this is crazy, I can't believe we're even discussing it!"

"Of course I'm not human. But I am a man, and I do love her. It's my humanity that led me to Jedi training, and you. _That_ is of what I speak."

"I…" Atton seemed at a loss for words. "So you give this…gift…then just stand aside? I know how much you love her, how could you give her up?"

"I'm not giving her up…I'm giving her myself when she needs it, then seeing her go on to her own happiness. I'm giving two people I love something to hold on to…one, my brother, the other, my leader, both, my friend. It is not sacrifice, it is an honorable… gift…as you said, to both of you."

He paused. "You have not asked, but I shall answer…yes, I do want her. She is a beautiful woman, her light shines so brightly, and she has so much to give. I would give much to have her in my arms just once. And that is all I will have. This week, no more. Then we will go be heroes, or martyrs, whichever the Force wills. If I was not absolutely certain that we have a good chance that we will survive, I would be here urging YOU to go to her. But I have not the ability yet to see the future clearly. I know only that I _feel_ you and Ladria will live. And anything I can do to ensure that, I will. I only ask you now, because of how you feel, and how she feels. I do promise I will tell her what I have said to you, and she will not feel conflicted or guilty, and when you claim her, I would be at your side, and hers."

"That is my business. What say you?" Bao Dur folded his hands on the table, a gesture among his people of peace and trust.

"I…" Atton tried again to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. He sat back, and remembered his training, both with Ladria…and before. He let Bao Dur's feelings sweep over him, and felt no deceit, no motive other than the ones stated. The truth of the other man's words hit him like a Wookie's blow. This…gift, this absolute need to comfort a friend, no, _two_ friends and the courage it took to talk to him suddenly made him feel humble, and small.

"Brother.." The word came as a whisper, and a benediction. "I believe you. It's crazy, mind…" some of the old Atton's bravado was back, and his voice became stronger. "But I do." Then his tone became soft, and just slightly pleading. "Just…take care of her, please? I wish…" He stopped, unable to articulate his thoughts.

They sat, companions and brothers again, unspeaking, not needing words. Then Bao Dur laughed softly.

"This is all rather moot if she doesn't agree, or doesn't want me. I'm not exactly…well, you said it…human. I'm big, and have horns, and rather blue for most human women's taste. Not to mention a multitude of tattoos, and several artificial parts. And it's really you she wants," he added quietly.

"Oh, she wants you." Atton's voice was soft, and a bit gruff. "Wanting and being in love aren't the same…but she does love you, too. And she wants you. I've felt that. I was…am…jealous, I admit it." He paused. "But what you say is true…there isn't any reason for me to be jealous. For what it's worth, you have my blessing." With that, he downed his drink in one gulp. "Now, I'm going to go play Pazzak."

Atton laughed, a little rueful, a little wistful, a little, he only admitted to himself, maliciously. "You have the hard part now. Go tell her of your intentions. If she doesn't kill you, I'll see you in a week. Good luck."

With a wink and a wave, Atton was gone.

Bao Dur rose, amazed at his own presumption, awed by his friend's generosity, and frankly scared to death. Atton was right. Now comes the hard part.


	2. Chapter 2

"Stupid, stupid, STUPID," he muttered to himself as he made his way back to the Ebon Hawk. It was so clear to him yesterday, what he should do, what she needed. But now that he had committed himself, and spoken to Atton, his resolve wavered.

He was human enough to not like the thought of being a substitute for her desires. To be perfectly honest, he had always wanted her…her gorgeous dark red hair, her graceful walk, her thoughtful way of speaking, her dry but lively sense of humor, the dance of her in battle had always been intoxicating to him. She had never hinted at any reciprocation of his feelings, always treating him as a good soldier, a warm friend, and a trusted compatriot. Atton's assessment that she wanted him too shook him more than he was willing to admit.

He loved her with almost everything he had, except where he and she needed it most. He was not the one for her, nor she for him, and he knew it. As did she. But he could be hers, for now. Privately, he admitted he needed this as much as she. Gathering his courage, he boarded the Ebon Hawk.

The first thing he heard was music. He had forgotten how she used to do that before battle. Her personal datapad included music from across the galaxy, most of it classical. She occasionally indulged in the noise that passes for music in the seedier cantinas that couldn't hire respectable Biths, and that Mira seemed to thrive on. Mostly, her tastes ran to lyrical, powerful works with strong string and horn sections, with an interesting balance between delicate melody and powerful harmony. Much like herself, although she'd be surprised if someone said so. During the war, she would go to her quarters on the eve of a campaign, plug in the music, and close her eyes meditatively. Once, he had asked her about it, and she said it helped center her energy. She had invited him to sit with her regularly after that, and he had appreciated the ritual. Closing his eyes, he listened for a moment, remembering.

He found her in the copilot's seat, eyes closed. He knew she had felt him the instant he had entered the ship, but he courteously stood still a moment, allowing her to acknowledge his presence. When she opened her eyes and gave him her direct green stare, he smiled.

"How are you, General?" Mentally cursing himself for falling back on old habits, he simply waited for her reply. On reflection, he thought it might be good that he hadn't used her name yet…go slow with this one, like a skittish Bantha. Too much sudden familiarity would cause her to bolt. Except, her thought with a flash of humor, no Bantha could ever be called beautiful, and Ladria was. So lovely it took his breath away.

"I thought I told you all to go get some R & R." She didn't seem annoyed, more…resigned? Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't surprise. "Well, you did, I guess, good XO that you are…I didn't think about it."

"Of course you did. I just said what you were thinking, and you were gracious enough to let the others think it was my idea."

"Whereupon you promptly gave the order, saying it was from me." She sounded amused. "I'm sure I don't deserve you. You're always looking out for me, and the crew."

If ever an opening there was….

"I was worried about you, General." The words were softly spoken, warm, but not out of bounds of friendship.

She was silent long enough for him to wonder if she had even heard him. When she spoke, he was shocked to the core.

" Bao'uhr Du'hcsk, will I ever convince you to use my name?"

The inflection and pronunciation was almost perfect; as close as someone lacking Iridonian vocal cords could make it. He had told her exactly _once_, years ago, his Name, and she had remembered it. And used it, now, when he came to her with this crazy idea.

By his standards, Ladria had just started a mating ritual.

And then it hit him. She knew. She _knew._

_Fool_, he thought despairingly, _to try and hide my intentions from a Jedi of her talent and experience. At least I know she will be kind, and either turn me down gently or simply leave things be, and not speak of it at all._

And on the heels of that another thought came _But…she used my Name. If she remembered that after all this time, then she almost certainly remembers the conversation. And in using it, could she actually be…encouraging me?_

_She's human,_ he reminded himself. _Jedi, yes, but human. She may have learned more about the implications of Name use by my culture, but no human can truly understand the subtlety. She may only be paying you respect. Tread carefully._

There were other reasons for being careful with Names that no Iridonian would share with an off-worlder. Names were power, yes, but inflection and tone spoke volumes in his language. Much like the Force, the manner of address could persuade, as well as use other subtle forms of mind tricks. This trick of intonation and inflection could be used with other languages, though it was much less effective, especially with Galactic Basic, that straight forward yet so deceptively simple speech of diplomacy and commerce. Language among Iridonians who have an emotional bond, such as spouses, or a parent with their child, is rife with undertones. What is not said is as important as the words themselves. Important emotional conversations almost always began with Name invocation. He had declined to use her name when asked, not only because he felt it disrespectful at the time. While most humans don't pick up on involuntary Iridonian inflection, Ladria was unusually perceptive, and gifted at languages. He was, quite frankly, afraid of offending her or causing an irreversible change in their friendship. Try as he might, he could not keep his complex feelings completely out of her name.

All this flew through his mind at light speed. He knew what he said now could be very important, with his original intent a virtual certainty.

Or it could mean only what she had said, and nothing more.

_Humans,_ he thought wryly. _Well, here goes nothing._

"I suppose you could, Ladria."

There. She had called with his Name, and he had answered with hers. He had not troubled to hide his inflections, and she could make of that as she would. If she even noticed.

She did. He saw her eyes widen just a little, enough to know that she had tried to hide it. If he had not been looking for just such a sign, it would have seemed her face didn't change at all.

Or…perhaps it was wishful thinking.

_There are times I wish other races could learn my language. Things would be so much easier._

She looked up at him, a slow smile crossing her lips. Her eyes, so dark a green they almost looked black in the low light of the cockpit, regarded his vivid blue ones serenely.

"There, was that so difficult?"

The simple words, so casual to the uninitiated, washed over him like a warm shower of sweet-scented water. To his astonishment, he realized that she had somehow learned Iridonian vocal intonation, or something very like. Imperfect, yes, but there. This ritual she had started was _real._ _She _was…inviting him.

She had tested his blade. Now the verbal fencing began in earnest.

"It was, somewhat, yes, General."

_Parry. I am most interested, but am unsure of my reception. Please enlighten me._

"Perhaps with some practice, it will become easier."

_Defensive posture. I am unsure of my path, and will hold position until I see an opening._

"Our cultures are so different, Ladria. I find it difficult to be casual about names. I will try."

_Dropping my guard. I am open to suggestion and trust you will make your intentions clear._

"Yet you use Atton's name regularly. Perhaps you don't with most of the crew…I noticed that you address Mira as Red, and Mandalore as Warrior. The others…more formally, except Disciple, who you call "youngster", much to his annoyance. He is much too polite to say so, however."

_Cautious attack. You have affection or respect for most of our other friends and crew. Yet only with one will you use his name freely. With me, you have avoided addressing me as I have invited. How am I different, and how is Atton special?_

Ah, so now Atton has been brought up. Bao Dur could hear in her voice that she suspected Atton's feelings toward her, and that he, Bao Dur, knew it as well. Of her own feelings, she kept them carefully hidden to all but the most perceptive. This will take a most careful answer.

"Atton has proved himself to me as trustworthy and a brother. He does not seem to understand the respect I show by using his name, but perhaps in time he will. The others…I feel affection, but they are yet unproven. With some, I would guess, I will never be able to use their name, unless in time of great need. As for you…when you asked on Malachor V, I could not; it was disrespectful. Now…there are other reasons."

_Attack blocked. Holding pattern. Atton is someone I hold dear, and I know you do too. I will not hurt him, or let him be hurt. I have not used your Name because I would not hurt you either. You are someone special to me, and I would give myself to your keeping._

Her face relaxed, and she smiled again.

"Bao'uhr Du'hcsk, I am unskilled at your language, and I apologize for my clumsiness. Let us drop this verbal sparring and get to the point."

_No translation needed there_, he thought. Suddenly, he grinned.

"All right, Ladria. As for clumsiness, I will admit you are not Iridonian, but you are the best human I have ever talked to. I believe you need to be born to the language to truly master it." His smile was warm and inviting.

Ladria grimaced, then smiled again. "Thank you for the compliment, however unearned. I have learned some, but will never have the upper hand with a native."

There was no inflection this time. She looked away, through the view screen of the cockpit. Bao Dur waited patiently, knowing she was trying to gather her thoughts. Briefly, he wished there was such a thing as Force armor, because he was sure she would use her connection in the next round. He was wrong.

Finally, she spoke, so quietly he had to lean over to hear.

"I am so tired, Bao'uhr Du'hcsk."

It was spoken without pity, or despair. His Name, spoken so, was not a plea, but a trust. In that moment, she was not a General, or a Jedi - just a woman, overwhelmed by her responsibility, talking to a trusted friend. His heart contracted painfully, and he wanted to touch her, to hold her, to protect her, to die for her. He settled for putting his good hand on her shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

"You are not alone, Ladria."

She put her hand over his and squeezed back, just as gently. He was big, and strong, and she was so small. Standing up, she just reached his collarbone. Yet he knew she could break his hand without thought. The gentleness of her touch pierced him. He was used to having to be gentle himself; he knew the restraint involved.

Abruptly, she turned to him and looked up.

"I don't want to play games anymore. We have fenced, and talked, and said everything but outright what you want. I am tired, and scared, and sick of death and war. But in a week, we will be facing something I sense that will make Malachor V look like a birthday party. So, my friend, why are you here?"

He looked at her, weighing what he had said to Atton against the woman before him, and the plan that had seemed so, well, if not reasonable, at least not preposterous until faced with her now. His absolute arrogance of thinking he knew what she needed seemed shameful now. Well, there was no help for it. Speak the truth – she would know if he lied, at any rate – and be damned.

To his horror, he could not find words. He gaped at her for a minute, trying desperately to find some way to communicate. Nothing came, and he cleared his throat in frustration.

Finally, he spoke. "I talked to Atton."

"Oh? What about?"

The inflection was back, a bit. Enough for him to realize she knew he was hedging, and was now on the defense.

"You."

_Please understand I care, and only have your welfare at heart._

She seemed to understand, and relaxed her posture.

"What about me?"

"Ladria…" he put all his love and longing into her Name. "Could we go to the common room, and maybe have a drink? I'm feeling…a bit at a disadvantage here." He indicated the close quarters, and her seat at the copilot's station. "I have some things to say, and they may make you angry, or at least….upset…and I'd much rather be looking across a table than feel like I'm penning you in."

She looked up again, assessing his discomfort. Her eyes missed nothing, not his misery, or his hope, or his desire.

"All right." Her voice was neutral, giving away nothing.

He stepped back, and walked to the gathering area. He heard her stand up and follow. Without speaking, he went into the galley and loaded a bottle of good whisky and two glasses on to a tray. When he returned, she was seated and the table, looking at him thoughtfully.

He put down the tray, and she poured them both a drink. Raising her glass, she smiled, a genuine one, and said "To friendship," and downed her drink in one gulp. He followed suit.

"To friendship." The drink burned, then warmed him. It took quite a lot to make him drunk; he had never seen Ladria even tipsy.

She laughed, a sweet sound in the almost silence of the Ebon Hawk. A ship at port was never entirely silent; there were always the quiet sounds of computers at work and the low hum of the energy cells.

"Bao'uhr Du'hcsk, I'm going to let you off the hook here. I think you are here to get me drunk and seduce me. Is that right?"

Well, this was unexpected. He was sure she knew, just was surprised she said so. He gaped at her, speechless. He quickly recovered, matching her offhand tone.

"Well…yes. I was hoping, however, that getting you drunk wouldn't be necessary."

She looked at him, her green eyes fathomless. "Why should it be?"

He took another drink, downed it without pause, then poured them both another. They drank.

"Um…well…"

"Very articulate," she said, amusement evident in her smile. She poured two more, then sat back. "Let me guess…you thought your General needed a good drunk, a good lay, and then…what? To forget that I'm sending us all on what will probably be a suicide mission?"

Suddenly, Bao Dur was tired of the fencing, the unspoken fear, everything.

"If you want to think that, yes. That was not my intention." His inflection was sharp.

_You should know my motives are not that crude, and self-pity does not suit you._

She flinched, obviously catching his meaning. She downed her drink again, and he followed suit.

"Well, if you want to get me drunk, it will take a lot more than the two bottles of whisky we have on board. If you want to bed me, surely you know by now all you had to do was ask."

Her tone was calm, warm, and oh so sexy…but not what he had wanted to hear, exactly. The feeling of piloting a freighter without shields and damaged navigation through an asteroid belt increased. He regarded her, trying to see through the shields she had thrown up, and finally decided that directness, though possibly painful, was best.

It was time to come clean.

"Ladria."

Her head snapped up at the Name. Even with her Jedi training, she responded to the tone he had put in it.

"Let me tell you about my day, and about what I thought, and then you can decide if I was right, or wrong, or just plain misguided."

At that, she rested her chin on her hands, and looked at him, straight on. Her thoughts were guarded, her eyes veiled.

He recounted his story, including the conversation with Atton. He left nothing out, no shield between them. It took two more shots, which she matched without comment, and when he finished, he sat, vulnerable and humbled.

"I am sorry, General. I presumed too much, and assumed I knew what you needed. I did not ask your opinion, or considered your feelings. I hope this will not cause you to lose your trust in me. Believe me, I had nothing but the best of intentions."

He drank again, and stood.

"I will go now. I hope someday you will forgive me. Until then, I promise I will not let this stand between us, or interfere with our mission"

As he started to turn, she reached out and grasped his arm. He turned and looked at her, shame in his posture and face.

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "You were not wrong, Bao'uhr Du'hcsk."

One tear fell, spilling down her cheek. He reached out with one finger and caught it.

"I wasn't?"

She was in his arms, and sobbing as if her heart would break. He opened up his feelings, and her misery resonated through his soul.

"I am Jedi…I should be able to do this without fear. I should be able to weigh the cost, and accept the consequences, and do what must be done. But sometimes…I look into the darkness…and I think I see my face there, staring back. That I never really turned away from the dark side, and all I am doing now is serving a dark master who wants to destroy everything I love."

Her face was streaked with tears, and his heart burned.

"And sometimes, I think Kreia is right…that all I am is an instrument of evil. That no matter what I do, or think, or feel…destruction and despair is all I will ever give. I am so afraid…and I know that if I give in to the fear, it will destroy everything I hold dear and believe in."

She tried to smile. "But then, I see you…and Atton, and Mira, and Visas, and I think, no, THEY have seen the darkness, and we have faced it, together. We're better than that, and we can make a difference, and keep the faith. And I have hope again. You all think _I_ have given you hope, but in truth…you all have given it to me."

She sniffled, and groped for something to wipe away the tears. Bao Dur handed her a napkin, and she cleaned up her face, trying to smile.

"You're right, you know. I do love Atton, but for now…we can't realize it. I hope someday that we can. Until then…I need someone to understand, and to let me hope that what we fight for is something real, and not just a shadow. I know it is a weakness, but I need so much to hold on to someone…to something…so I know that win or lose, I've made a difference. That there are children that will grow, and mothers that will raise them, and brothers that will argue and stand together and _live._"

And in a small voice, almost a whisper, she said, "Right now, I need _you_."

He reached out, and she stepped into his arms. "I'm here, Ladria. As long as you need me."

She clung to him, and cried, and he held her. When she could cry no more, he led her to her cabin. Murmuring nonsense, he got her to the bunk, got both of their boots off, and held her close until they slept.


	3. Chapter 3

She woke first, feeling Bao Dur curled around her body. She snuggled in, feeling warm, and safe, and loved. He had not touched her, even in sleep, beyond gathering her close. She had never felt so protected in her life.

_Six days left_, she thought. Not a lot of time, but they would make it count. In a flash of understanding, she recalled what he had told her. Atton. He was out there, loving her, waiting. She knew now that she could wait, and he would too. For these few precious days, she had Bao Dur, and that was more than she ever had hoped for. There was no jealousy, no regret, no guilt. Just her, and Bao Dur, and the hope she carried now for the future.

She felt him stir beside her and smiled. Rolling over, she kissed him gently on the cheek and waited until he woke. His blue eyes opened and looked into her green ones, sleepy and content. He smiled, and her heart contracted. He wasn't human, not that was ever a consideration on her part, but he was warm, and attractive, and oh, so very sexy. She stroked his cheek, and smiled at him.

"Good morning, Bao'uhr Du'hcsk."

"Good morning, Ladria." The use of her name, unguarded with sleep, made her shiver.

He gathered her in, and kissed her cheek.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, snuggling close.

She snuggled back, shamelessly. She could feel his arousal around her, beyond the physical evidence that was currently pressing against her thigh.

"Better than I have in weeks. I guess you were wrong, after all." Her eyes were teasing, her face carefully blank.

"Oh was I?" he murmured, not fooled in the slightest. "About what?" He transferred attention to the hollow of her throat, nuzzling and nipping lightly.

"I didn't need a good drunk and a good lay after all. I just needed a good night's sleep." She moaned a little, appreciating his attentions. Fully clothed, with morning breath and her hair tangled around her shoulders, she was never more aroused in her life. A slow exploration told her he was in the same state.

"Well now…I guess you need to replace me as XO. A good second should always properly anticipate the needs of his captain." His tongue started doing interesting things to her left ear. Her shiver encouraged him, and he ran his hand down her side, resting on her hip, pulling her closer. "Or general, for that matter."

He raised his head and looked at her full in the face. His bright blue eyes were almost electric. Their eyes searched each other's, finding peace, solace, love, understanding. Then he slowly closed the distance and kissed her.

Insanely, she thought of her whisky induced halitosis, then thought no more. His kiss was gentle, but insistent and immediate. Desire flooded her body, and a moan escaped her throat. His tongue teased her lips, demanding and insistent. Her mouth opened to his gentle assault. His kiss deepened, and his hands were everywhere, stroking, teasing, tugging at her clothes. Her robe opened, and his calloused hands were tenderly but firmly stroking her. She discovered that stroking the horns on his head made him moan. Delighted, she continued this until he made her stop with yet another hungry kiss.

His lovemaking was exactly as he was: thoughtful, gentle, with a deep awareness of her needs, and an undercurrent of strength and ferocity held in check. He gave more than he took, but was quite appreciative when she gave back. It was over sooner than either of them would have liked, but the depth of contentment and satisfaction in both of them was genuine. He held her close, and they listened to each other's breathing for a while.

"That was not what I intended, General." His soft voice held a touch of regret.

"So it's 'General' again?" she asked teasingly. "You won't use my name, even now?"

He looked at her, and chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest. "No, Ca'shaa, it isn't that…it is just that your Name, now, has more meaning than perhaps you want at this moment. Was I wrong?"

"Yes, you were…please, Bao'uhr Du'hcsk, say my Name."

He could hear the capitalization in her voice, and while he stroked her back and buried his fingers in her hair, he whispered "Ladria" in her ear. The inflection sent a shiver down her spine, and she sighed, content.

The first glow ebbing, she looked up, and asked "Ca'shaa?"

"In your language, it translates roughly to 'Dear One'"

"Mmmmmm. I like that. Ca'shaa. May I call you that, too?"

"I would like nothing more. But…you do have an atrocious accent."

"I see. Well, you will just have to teach me better. For now…I think we have other priorities." She nipped his ear.

"I think so too, Ca'shaa. As always, I am at your service."

He took over, and this time it was different. Gentle at first, it soon escalated to a wild dance of erotic sensations that left them both breathless and hungry. A fire ignited that hadn't been there before, and they both threw themselves into it, and let it burn. Consumed by the flame, they brought each other to a wild peak again and again until they collapsed, sated and gasping, sore in unaccustomed places, and with a tenderness that wasn't simply emotional.

For the rest of the week, they kept mostly to the Ebon Hawk. One or the other of them would occasionally go out and get better food than the galley's synthesizer, which they would share, often in bed. They agreed not to leave the ship together, although at one point he had expressed regret that she refused his idea of at least going out to dinner, and perhaps checking out some entertainment.

"Ca'shaa, I am not ashamed to be seen with you, and I would love nothing better than to spend a normal evening with my lover, enjoying good food, good entertainment, and perhaps dancing." She eyed him. "_Do _you dance?"

"Well…no. I am afraid I possess…how do you humans put it? Two right feet?"

She giggled. He started at that; she _never _giggled. The sound was like a summer breeze blowing through a crystal cave.

"It's two _left_ feet."

"Curious expression. What does it matter, right or left? Either way, it would be most difficult to walk, let alone dance."

"Ancient human superstition. Left was considered evil; if you have two left feet, it means they are cursed." She mock-glared at him. "But you're getting me off track. I was saying that I would enjoy being with you in public, but I don't really think it's a good idea."

"I did not think so either, but I would be willing to. I wanted you…well, to feel as normal as possible until we leave for Dantooine."

"Thank you. Believe me, this is as 'normal' as my life could ever be, and I am content. We can get good food, the entertainment here is barely acceptable anyway, unless you enjoy Pazzak, and I would not humiliate you by teaching you to dance in public. There are other reasons to keep to ourselves, as well."

"I understand, Ca'shaa."

The thought of Atton was with them both. It was one thing to know that he had given his blessing, even approved of their week together. It was quite another to run into him in public and rub his face in it. Neither Bao Dur nor Ladria would hurt him for the world. Plus, their other friends and crew were scattered Gods knew where. It was a big planet, but the chances of running in to one or another were greater than was comfortable. The Force had, in Ladria's opinion, a lively sense of humor. She did not relish having anyone question her or Bao Dur about their relationship. She was not embarrassed or ashamed of it, but…well, it was private, and the unspoken truth was this would last only until they left for Dantooine. After that, no matter what the outcome of the coming war, they would part as lovers, without regret. It was no one's business but their own.

And so the days passed. They talked, made love, showered together, talked some more. They shared large chunks of their lives, mostly before and after the Mandalorian War; rarely did they speak of the war itself, except to reminisce about people they had known, and times that didn't touch on battle. He improved her use of Iridonian voice inflection; she attempted to teach him to dance. The best he could do was hold her close and sway more or less in time to the music. They laughed together a lot.

Their last night together finally came. Bao Dur had gone to the best restaurant on the station and brought an exceptional feast. He wanted everything to be perfect and romantic – something they would always remember. With this in mind, as a surprise, he had bought himself semi-formal clothing. They had both mostly worn casual tunics and breeches during the week, when they bothered with clothing at all. He changed into the new stiff and unfamiliar garments at the shop and looked at himself in the mirror.

_Not bad_, he considered. _I suppose I'll always look like a thug by human standards, but at least I'm a decently dressed thug._

He had briefly considered purchasing a dress of some sort for Ladria, but decided not to. He was unsure enough about human customs to be wary of insulting her, and utterly uninformed about fashion. With his luck, he would pick something completely unsuitable, which she would wear without comment, and probably even sincerely thank him for. But he would know if he chose wrongly, as soon as she saw it. Better to be gallant and tell her she didn't need such artificial enhancements; her natural beauty was enough. Which was true, anyway.

Arriving back at the Ebon Hawk, he called out to announce his presence and found the table set with a white cloth, flowers, and - Gods knew where she came up with it – actual china plates and crystal goblets. He set about serving the food, pouring the wine, and discarding the food cartons. He heard her enter the compartment, turned to greet her, and sucked in his breath, momentarily stunned by the sight of her.

She was wearing a dress – well, he thought doubtfully, I think one would call it a dress. There seems to be enough material to qualify, and it covers the essentials. But it would not keep anyone without fur warm, and I've never seen anyone look so glowingly naked, yet perfectly proper in my life.

It was an emerald green, almost the color of her eyes, which made her pale skin nearly glow and turned her hair from a banked ember to a bright flame. The bodice was cut low, with enough cleavage to tantalize, but not be improper. The material was silky, flowing over her curves, skimming but not clinging. The skirt touched the tops of her shoes, but the sides…it was open on both sides from almost the top of her thigh to hem, with dozens of tiny chains holding the two halves together. Her lovely long legs were displayed, but discretely – the gap was only a few inches. The sleeves were filmy gauze, tight at the cuffs but slit from wrist to shoulder, so her arms occasionally peeped out. When she turned to show off her costume, a very satisfied female smile on her face, he could see that the back was so low he could swear he could see a hint of buttock cleavage. The engineer in him sincerely wondered how the bodice stayed up at all with it cut low in front _and_ back. He decided it was female magic, and to simply appreciate the breathtaking picture she made.

"You are lovely, Ca'shaa." His voice was warm honey, and the inflection was so powerfully sexual Ladria wondered if they would get through dinner. She shivered in anticipation.

"As are you…Ca'shaa. My, do you clean up well." She used inflections of appreciation and desire in return.

They sat down to dinner, one of her favorite music selections playing softly in the background. Afterwards, they cleaned up, and then he turned to her and took her in his arms. They swayed to the music, content to simply be touching, and breathing. When they made love, he took special care to undress her reverently, kiss her passionately, touch her tenderly, and love her completely. They made the most of every moment, and when they finally fell asleep, locked in each other's arms, the sleep was dreamless, and the dark was comforting.

When the morning came and the crew arrived, they were ready, and quite back to their former relationship. Atton of course knew, but if anyone else suspected, they gave no sign. As for Atton…he came aboard, surprisingly tidy and freshly shaved. He cheerfully greeted both of them. To Bao Dur's astonishment, he winked at him, shook his hand, and actually hugged Ladria in front of the entire crew. Kissing her soundly, he said with a grin, "I've always wanted to do that." She rather shyly kissed him back, which earned her his best Devil-may-care grin. With that, he disappeared into the cockpit for preflight countdown.

Laughing, Ladria further astonished her friends by hugging all of them in turn, with a word and pat on the arm for each. Mandalore, who came in last, she did not hug, but clasped his hand, warrior to warrior, and to his consternation, leaned over and kissed his cheek as well. She had taken care that no one else was around. Bao Dur saw, but was discretely in the background.

"Among my people, that is insubordination," he growled.

"Among mine, that is friendship," Ladria answered, not a bit intimidated. "I doubt we will ever completely see eye to eye, Canderous. But I have appreciated your help and hope that perhaps the Mandalore and the Republic can consider being allies instead of enemies. You are a great warrior and a worthy opponent, as well as being a good friend, if you so choose some day."

"For a Jedi you are a warrior of great skill," he said in his gruff manner. "I have sincerely enjoyed serving together. The Mandola have much rebuilding to do, and may need allies. I will consider your idea." He paused. "I didn't realize you knew who I was all this time," he added, acknowledging her use of his given name.

"Canderous, I was a General of the Republic during the Mandalorian War. I knew as much as I could about every officer who served under me, or fought against me. And I never forget a face, General Ordo." She smiled. "There was no doubt you knew exactly who I was, yet you were willing to serve with me for a common cause. The war is over; the past is dead. The Force often brings unlikely allies together. I have often thought the universe is possessed of a rather…whimsical…sense of humor."

When all the crew were situated and they were on their way to Dantooine, Ladria left the copilot seat, patting Atton on the shoulder in passing. Since everyone's return, she had found it much easier to be more familiar with her friends. While not especially given to touching people, she could not seem to help herself when it came to Atton, or Bao Dur, although she took care not to be obvious to anyone else about it. With everyone else, they still found her thoughtful, caring, and occasionally ruthless in her teachings, but there was an ease of manner that had been lacking before, and everyone, even Mandalore, responded to it.

Bao Dur was in the engine room, double checking every component, and humming along with the engines. He stood when she entered, and turned to look at her. She smiled, stepped forward, and hugged him hard. She kissed him one last time, lingeringly, and whispered "Thank you, Bao'uhr Du'hcsk. I am ready now."

She turned, and went back to the cockpit. Bao Dur gazed after her, a small, secret smile on his lips, satisfaction in his eyes. He had done well by his General.


End file.
